Inch by inch, hour by hour, his hammer and chisel turned the rock into tiny splinters that stung at his hands and face. What had once been a simple overhang was now a network of tunnels and chambers burrowed into the cliff face. Some rooms were small as closets – no more than alcoves in the tunnel walls – others were echoing halls, sumptuous bedchambers, or bathrooms atinkle with the sound of natural running water. Every time he finished carving out a room, he would rest for a day and wander through the other chambers, looking for signs of life. Every time, no matter how magnificent his workmanship, no matter how many times he checked, there were no people to be found.